The Girl Who Stayed Behind
by Wings of Indigo
Summary: Because not all the people the Doctor touches are extraordinary. Some are normal people- who just need a little help. And he saves each one. WARNING: Teen drinking and use of profanity. I'm Here Now verse, can be read alone.


**Hey everybody. For those of you who can't guess who Max is and are completely lost, this is part of my I'm Here Now AU. I just thought it would be interesting to write a story about Evy's best freind Max- and why she left the advantages of her upperclass family for the very different lifestyle she leads. And, of course, the Doctor had to poke his nose in- why wouldn't he? I thought it fitting for Evy's strongest support to have her own special moment with the Doctor. Cheers. **

**Note: Max is sixteen, Doctor is Eleven. (Not that it's not obvious or anything)**

* * *

Most people would think Knightsbridge families were at the epitome of happiness in life.

_Most people would be wrong, _Max thought with a sigh, gazing up at the stars.

She was sprawled on a ratty green wool blanket, laid over the small patch of grass in the center of the rooftop garden of her family's city apartment building. Their _ultra-exclusive_ and _expensive_ city apartment.

It was about three in the morning, and Max had crept up here about one, seeking solace in the three things she knew she could count on - music, booze, and the summer sky- when she knew she was unlikely to be discovered and chased back downstairs.

Downstairs. Max sighed again, biting sharply on the inside of her cheek to stave off the involentary wimper as she reached for the bottle of clear fluid currently keeping her company alongside her beat-up, much abused, and equally much loved guitar.

Taking a swig, Max coughed violently as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. The stars swam momentarily as the potent stuff passed into her bloodstream.

Her parents were fighting again- fighting over her. And they had been fighting _with_ her, earlier this evening- which was why she was on the roof. It was the usual crap- her grades were decent, not stellar; she had elected to take another musical course instead of the political one her father had chosen for her; her freinds were 'druggies', and did not befit her.

_Don't befit you, you mean,_ she'd yelled back, defending her freinds in a way she'd long ago learned not to defend herself. She couldn't do otherwise. It didn't sit right with her- if she could betray the only thing close to a support and acceptance she had, then what did she have?

Exactly nothing.

And so, after being confined to her room in punishment for disrespect and defiance- huh, as if- she had sneaked her special, favorite guitar and stash of liquor appropriated from her parents from their hiding place and come up here.

Her sanctuary. After all, the stars couldn't betray her, nor hurt her. They just were, as silent as they had ever been and would ever be.

Max set the bottle down on the garden paving stones, hearing the soft clink of the glass as her hand came down unsteadily. She wasn't drunk-yet- the whole object of the thing; she was merely tipsy, but inebriated enough that she wouldn't risk her treasured, fragile second hand guitar to her clumsy fingers.

Lying back, Max picked out the few constellations she knew- Cygnet, Orion; the Big and Little Dippers. When she was little, she had dreamed of flying away and exploring them. Now, all she dreamed of was to get free of her parents and their stifling enviroment.

She sighed. "I wish that was possible," She muttered, reaching for the half-empty bottle again.

"You wish what was possible?" A soft voice said, from over by a corner of the garden. Max shot up, unsure whether she should hide the liquor bottle or if it was to late.

"What do you care?" She challenged, in a tone that said, quite clearly, _don't fuck with me_. "Can't you respect a girl's right to get drunk in peace?"

Mentally, Max winced, thinking that if the alcohol had loosened her tongue that much, it was time to call it a night before she landed in serious trouble.

The person snorted, and walked closer to her blanket, the reflected glow of the London nightscape illuminating them slightly. Max saw a young, skinny looking man, with longish, dark hair, a bow-tie and tweed jacket ensemble that made him look like a freakishly young university professor, and old, wise, sorrowful eyes out of place in a face Max would have pegged as mid to late twenties.

"You shouldn't be drinking," He said dissapprovingly, glancing at the bottle she clutched in her left hand.

Max growled at him. "Who's gonna stop me? You?" She laughed mirthlessly, defiantly, taking another swig from the bottle. The frown on the man's face deepened. "Besides," Max said bitterly, "Why should you care about me? Hardly anyone else does."

There was a long pause, with a faint air of suprise in the man's silence. When he spoke again, it was less dissapproving and more level, more sympathetic.

"I wouldn't know what that's like- I've been close a few times, but never completely uncared about. I'm lucky in that at least."

Max shrugged, setting the bottle back on the pavement near her left hand and lying back down on her blanket.

"Mind if I join you?" The man asked. In response, Max wordlessly shifted over so there was room on the blanket. For several minutes, they both gazed up at the velvet sky and the specks of light that decorated it.

"Do you have a favorite?" Max asked suddenly, in lieu of reaching for her bottle again. She'd had enough alcohol this evening.

Her mystery guest glanced at her for a moment, before turning his attention back to the sky.

"Hmmm." He thought for a moment. "I don't think so. You couldn't choose a favorite song out of all those you've written, could you?"

"I suppose-how'd you know about that?" Max demanded, fingers involentarly reaching for and curling around the slender, smooth neck of her guitar.

He shrugged, which she felt rather than saw. "Does it matter?"

"I suppose not." she said grudgingly, releasing the guitar neck. "I don't have a favorite, either. I've wished on all of them and each wish never comes true."

"What do you wish for?" He asked quietly. Somehow, Max didn't mind telling him. Maybe it was the booze, maybe it was the whole impossiblity of the situation, maybe it was the freindly intmacy she felt from him, as though she'd known this mystery man all her life.

"I used to wish for adventure, when I was young," She said softly, remembering the dreams she used to have.

"You are young," he replied, equally soft. Max shook her head, then remembered her guest wouldn't be able to see the gesture.

"No. Not anymore."

"What do you wish for now, then?" His question was freindly and caring, without a trace of the guile or subterfuge Max was used to in it.

It took a long for her to awnser, even so. She swallowed several times, the words coming in a whisper.

"I wish for escape." she said, a small tear trickling down her face. Her greatest wish was the reflection of her greatest fear- to be broken by her parents and to live at their direction, trapped in the life they wove and chose for her.

Unexpectedly, he touched her hand. Max's gaze flicked to him, surprised. Their eyes met.

"Listen to me, Mackenzie Alice Carver," He said, with absolute sincerity, " You can escape, if you really want to. Emanicpation is legal at sixteen."

Max blinked. "But- I couldn't!" she exclaimed, though her voice remained at a level whisper.

The man smiled, a mysterious and endearing smile, one that hinted he knew something she didn't. "You'll find, Max, that you are capable of many things. This is only the beginning. And if you can't find belief in yourself yet- _I_ belive in you."

With that, he gave Max's hand a squeeze and abruptly stood up, leaving a speechless Max on the blanket.

"I have to go. But it was the best to see you again, Max- the absolute best."

Max shook her head, not quite understanding. "Have we met?"

The man smiled, as though at a private joke. "No."

"Than what do you mean, see me again? And who _are_ you?" Max asked, confused.

His smiled turned secretive. "You'll find out." Then he glanced at something in his hand, hidden by the rooftop darkness, and frowned.

"Good night, Max." He said caringly, before turning and vanishing into the dark.

After he dissappeared, Max did not follow. However curious she was- there were things people were not meant to know. But she kept her stranger's words in mind- until the next Friday, when she challenged her parents and won.

It was with trepidation that she approached the life she'd wished for and a stranger had granted- but she remembered what he said. "_I_ belive in you."

That was what motivated her throughout all the adventures she'd have in life and freindship and love; at home and a few times in the stars she'd once dreamed of. The memory of a stranger's belief and encouragement when her own had failed.

After all, not all courage is in the acts that save worlds. Sometimes the bravest sort is in the choices closest to home.


End file.
